Company of Heroes
by Corothas
Summary: A story about the dungeon crawling variant of Warhammer, Warhammer Quest. Follow four 'noble' warriors on their quest.
1. First Deep

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer or anything even remotely related to it, except for some miniatures...

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Company of Heroes: First Deep

This place was old, and it had been the domain of foul beasts and monsters for untold centuries. Until now.

The only warning the orcs got was the whistling of an arrow, before it struck one particularly ugly one squarely in the chest. The force of the projectile was so great, that the orcs was thrown backwards and the arrow impaled a smaller one in the neck. Then, four warriors charged into their midst. The first was an armoured figure, fully a head taller and broader than the orcs, smiting the monsters left and right with a hammer which left only a trail of blue sparks and black blood in its wake as it threw the orcs in the air like rag dolls.

From an elevation in the room leapt an almost 7 feet tall fighter with a burning sword and while he fell, he somersaulted over the first line of orcs and, with a single swipe of the blade, caused three orcs to double over and clutch the burning gashes in their chests. A strange black mist proceeded the third fighter, who strolled casually through the entrance, caring not for the dismembered bodies of the slain, as only the still living orcs interested him. He drew a chittering sword, with which he slaughtered five orcs in a few seconds. When the last orc in his path was still standing, the warrior lowered his head, looked the orc in the eyes and then, as the creature trembled but didn't move, opened his mouth and revealed fangs longer than knives. The creature only squeaked as the shadow fell upon him.

A bright light radiated from the last figure that arrived in the room, clearly a wizard, as the crackling of static electricity and smell of ozone were very clear. Closing his eyes, the wizard summoned a blazing fire in the form of a hammer, with which he smashed two of the last orcs from their feet.

The orcs were being pushed back, slaughtered, and broken, and they knew it. One managed to sound a crude alarm before the armoured elf's arrow pierced his head and thudded in the wall behind it in a spray of blood.

'Good shot there, Corothas ' said the armoured barbarian, wiping the orc-blood from his hammer. The elf merely replied with: '46, now Toreth, I'm gaining on you.' 'Hah, that was just because you blew those 10 goblins off the ledge back there. I'm telling you, throwing guys in a ravine doesn't count!' 'Quiet!' The dark warrior barked, his voice sounding like a sinister growl. 'I seem to agree with our dark friend here,' the wizard replied, 'as the orc sounded the alarm before Corothas shot him.'

The wizard, Radagast, proceeded to draw power in himself, and channelled streams of energy to himself and the chaos warrior. 'Remember lads, we are here to steal the Chaos icon, not to play mass-murderers.' Toreth walked over towards the door out of this large antechamber, but suddenly stopped dead in his tracks and ran one hand along the wall next to him. The chaos warrior hissed and reached for his scabbard. The elf, who had been leaning nonchalantly against the wall a moment ago, had closed his eyes and was listening intently. 'A secret door, the barbarian spoke softly.' 'An ambush' grated the chaos warrior. 'Screams of damned souls' spoke the elf. 'You are all right, my friends,' said the wizard 'I sensed it too' and the electricity around the wizard sparked again.

The wall next to the barbarian sprang inwards, and the warrior leapt back and plucked the hammer from his belt. Looking to what came through the door, he gasped and retreated from the opening. He had just joined his companions when the first wave of undead burst from the doorway. Skeletons and zombies attacked in vast numbers, and shadows sprang from the walls, suddenly becoming black cloaked creatures with a grinning skull face and a scythe in their bony claws.

The chaos warrior simply grinned and moved on to the front door, were he began to slaughter his way through the newly arrived orc reinforcements.

With the horde of undead pouring out of the secret corridor, and more streaming through, the wizard analyzed the presence he felt and surmised the undead had to be summoned by an extremely powerful undead sorcerer. Shouting at the top of his lungs: 'My friends, we must kill the vile sorcerer who commands these abominations, and not waste our time with his lackeys!' The elf and barbarian immediately began to fight their way through the undead ranks to protect their valued companion and help him destroy the necromancer. Powdered bones and flying skulls heralded the arrival of the barbarian, while several zombies began to catch fire from the fiery blade of the elf and staggered back from his furious assault. Then they began to fight their way to the entrance of the secret door. The wizard struck enemies everywhere with his sword, but the barbarian and the elf awed him with their killing power. Toreth would simply swing his hammer in a giant figure of eight, and crushed anything unfortunate enough to be standing next to him, while Corothas would lash at everything in reach with so much speed and skill that he cut a path for himself. 'Glad I'm here to help them,' he thought, 'As if I'm much use next to their fighting capabilities ', though he knew full well they needed him along for magical aid and destruction, as much as he needed their combat skills.

With Ancalagon, the chaos warrior, still holding the door against ever increasing numbers of orcs, and even trolls, the only chance they had was to slay the necromancer before they would be overwhelmed, as everyone had suffered their fair share of wounds. Corothas had entered the secret door, which was still pouring forth undead, and swung with his blade, but for every undead sent burning to his demise, two others would take its place. Despairing, he put both his hands on the sword, which now virtually burned white-hot, and unleashed a massive blast of flame from its end, illuminating the entire room and vaporising dozens of undead monsters.

'Go!' he screamed, 'I will hold off the wraiths!' Toreth and Radagast got the hint, and charged into the tunnel, disposing of any undead which lived after the elf's terrifying flame blast. Meanwhile Morgoth ran into problems of his own, having been fighting an ever increasing flow of monsters. But the bigger problem was the ominous shape pushing it's way ever further through the hallway before him towards him. It was revealed as a huge Orc, it's skin so dark it was almost black, wearing what appeared to be blood encrusted plate mail, but shining with a sinister glow. It roared and brought an axe with a head as large as his arm down towards him, and struck a gaping gash in his chest.

The wraiths, blackening the room with their darkness, surrounded the tall elf, dwarfing him in comparison. Hissing sinisterly as they brought their scythes down, the elf brought up a ball of flame around himself to shield himself from their icy attacks. Corothas flung his arms wide, and the ball of flame exploded in a huge blast of fire, catching some skeletons and burning them to ash in a split-second. The wraiths, however, were not very impressed, and cut through his armour like it wasn't there, dealing him terrible wounds.

Toreth and Radagast could feel the ancient evil of the shrivelled and almost fleshless sorcerer who stood before them, malice glowing red in dark eye sockets. The barbarian smashed aside the last of the undead soldiers that barred his way, and proceeded to crush the chest of the undead monstrosity. However, it retaliated simply by grabbing the barbarian's arm and place his other hand on his victims chest. Toreth immediately dropped his weapon, as his arm became powerless and the claw on his chest threatened to freeze his heart. Radagast, though clutching a deep wound in his abdomen, managed to utter a word of power, and blew the shrivelled skin off the skeletal necromancer. Toreth gathered his strength, picked up his hammer and smashed the still standing skeleton to dust in a mighty blow of blue fire. But the spirit of the necromancer yet lived, and hovered over the warrior from the North, whose soul would have been sucked out if the spectral fiend had not been stopped by a blast of power from the wizard, who cast it's corrupted soul deep in the bowels of hell with a mighty and ancient exorcising spell.

The Orc Warlord's axe had just cut through his armour as if it were paper and it was being raised for a second blow. That was all Ancalagon could take before a boiling rage overcame him and, lifting his sword once more, he brought it down with all his might, severing both the head and arm of the orc warlord in a single blow. Turning towards it's followers, he simply stared at them. They fled in screaming terror, leaving at the same time the remaining undead crumbled to dust, their damned souls screaming as they were ripped from their bodies and cast into the winds of magic.

'Well, at least now we know what that secret door held guys.' Spoke the elf in a happy tone.

'Could very well be, my friend, but we still have to find the idol.' Was the obligate answer from the wizard.

Laughing despite their pain, the four warriors prepared to continue on their quest.

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Reviews are very much pleased, and I intend to make more progress in the story as I write more chapters.


	2. Second Deep

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer, the corporation(s) do...

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Company of Heroes: Second Deep

They had been fighting their way downwards for hours now, and still they hadn't found so much as a clue to where the idol had to be snatched before the chaos warriors they were tracking had found it before they had.

Toreth was leading up front, getting more disgruntled with every step further he made. Behind him walked Corothas, even his usually permanent grin had faded into a faint smile. Radagast was walking behind the elf, the long time he had to use his magic powers taking its toll on him, and deep lines of tiredness were set in his face. Morgoth, however, was worst off. Getting more frustrated by the minute, he kicked aimlessly at the rocks on the path every minute or so.

Their journey downwards led them to a stairway descending into the darkness.

There, they decided to stop and rest, having trudged through the almost empty tunnels and chambers for a few days now.

It was there that Corothas discovered something strange. 'Radagast,' he spoke softly

'Wake up friend, and take a look at the doors we just passed by.' The doors in question were clearly made to be shut for a very long time, sealed with runes of power by the dwarves who had once lived in this forgotten underground stronghold.

'Look Radagast, these doors were made to be barred from the outside, as if they were scared of whatever was beneath this staircase.' The wizard nodded, and pointed towards the other feature the elf had told him about; 'But you say these runes are inactive, and that is incorrect, my elf companion, they are recharging. These runes did not fade ages ago, they were broken very recently, probably not more than a few hours ago.' Toreth and Morgoth leapt to their feet, both having overheard the conversation, while pretending to be asleep. 'Than the chaos worshippers we are chasing can not be very far away!' the barbarian shouted. 'Finally' grunted Morgoth, 'more killing.' New fire shining in their eyes, the four continued downwards.

A few minutes later, they all sensed there was something amiss in their surroundings. It was not the darkness or sounds. It was the walls. The light of the lantern, which had illuminated their way for the past few days did not shine on anything else then themselves. They could all feel the atmosphere warping around them. Corothas decided to risk the sight that could lead them on, or could blast away their sanity in an instant, if reality would give way to chaos.

Holding aloft a shining jewel, he whispered an incantation, and bright magical light shone from the gem.

Lesser mortals would have instantly gone mad at the sight.

A seething mass of disembodied eyes covered the walls, the ceiling, and knee-deep the floor. They pulsated with rage and there was nothing but pure hatred in their stares. The wizard shouted: 'This is but an illusion, friends, resist with all your might!' Toreth, quickly deciding that what was real could be bashed, swung his hammer through the sea of eyes. It sailed clean through the mass, and then they disappeared, leaving just simple stone walls and floors. Morgoth had already walked on, unperturbed by a sight which would have sent any normal man instantly insane.

Radagast took a deep breath, blinked with his eyes, and walked on, the floor and walls normal again.

Corothas was in more trouble, however. He closed his eyes, and, though he felt the stares of the eyes on him and their tiny gelatinous bodies on his legs, took a small step. Relieved that he didn't squish anything underfoot, he successfully disbelieved the illusion and leapt forward to rejoin his companions.

'Look, this is a chaos temple.' Morgoth grunted. Knowing full well where the warrior went in the settlement, Toreth vowed to never ever join him, as one heart attack in a lifetime was enough for him. Deciphering the glyphs on the walls, the chaos warrior told his companions the temple had a gauntlet to be run, before entering the inner sanctum. There were four doors ahead of them, each allowed one person to enter, and cross through to the inner temple, were the idol likely resided.

All four entered a door, and each one walked straight into a personal nightmare, except one.

A vile chamber, covered in human entrails, rotting corpses and clouds of buzzing black flies greeted Morgoth. Summoning his courage, the warrior walked forward, determined not to get distracted from the coming slaughter.

This however only meant he didn't see the diseased corpses behind him stand up and follow him, mocking and copying each movement he made. When he got halfway through the room, a hand was laid on his shoulder. Turning around he saw the diseased corpses. Each was a depiction of himself. Morgoth knew his chaos masters had rewarded him with excellent mutations, such as his hypnotic gaze and fangs.

Now, however, he saw all the gifts he would never have wanted in his life. There, a woman had her lips sewn together, because her mouth had reappeared in her chest.

There, a man was so bloated it looked like his intestines would burst out of him any second. They did. A third man looked towards him with a face without any features, just a blank slate. Turning to run, Morgoth slipped on a pile of melting brains, and then found himself being lifted by mutated arms and his head being pushed ever closer tot the foul well in the middle of the room. The liquid inside the well was brimming with limbs, maggots, loose eyeballs and daemonic faces, screaming for more meat. His head being brought closer, he almost gave in to the screaming fear that threatened to engulf his sanity. Almost. He remembered the first time having called the chaos gods for power, finding himself at the mercy of his enemy in the middle of a battle.

He remembered in that moment of weakness he had pledged his soul to the dark gods if they would save him. He realised that he had been strong ever since, and never surrendered to fear or madness. He knew instinctively the corpses behind him had, and had been punished by Nurgle, the Chaos God of diseases. He straightened, as the hands suddenly held him no more. He turned his back on the corpses and walked through the door leading to the inner temple.

A sight of blood and death greeted Radagast. Men, women and even children were being tortured, broken and murdered before his very eyes. Here was a man being held on a rack, his limbs smashed to pieces where they exceeded the length of the rack. A women was crucified, and cut open from her throat to her crotch. He could see her guts beginning to fall out, blood streaming down her legs, threatening to drown a child lying face down in a goblet that captured the blood the woman shed.

The daemons that tortured them were ruddy and scaly, with large talons, clutching spikes and clubs wrought of black iron. He couldn't bear seeing it any longer, but he felt all the magic leaving him. Gathering up the last of his magical might, he hurled a blast of mystic wind at the daemons. Horrified, he could only watch as the windblast was redirected from the daemons to the prisoners. Closing his eyes, all he could do was imagine how the flesh was stripped from an innocent man's bones. Drawing his sword from its scabbard, he launched an enraged blow at the nearest torturer.

The creature's head was severed from its body, and landed several feet away.

It just laughed and put it's head back on its trunk, increasing in size and grasping a blade of black iron. The remaining daemons closed in on him, grinning wildly. He then realised he was in the sphere of Khorne, the Chaos God of hatred and war. He forced himself to remain calm, as the daemons only fed upon his hate. Diminishing, the creatures tried one last attack on him, but he didn't react to their attack, their blades as pinpricks against his legs and feet. Screeching, they popped out of existence.

Radagast walked calmly to the door, passed it en let out a scream of rage.

When Toreth walked in the room, he wandered straight into a nice reunion of family and friends. But when he tried to move, he noticed something was amiss.

He could only see and hear some things, random visions of the future. He heard his parents and sister in Norsca lament him. How he cared nothing for his family, how he abandoned all his friends and had went north to sell his soul to the Chaos Gods.

Radagast was now a mighty necromancer, invading the Empire from Sylvania, with a huge force of grotesque undead abominations. Corothas was the leader of the first Elven invasion force in ages, cutting a path through the west coast of the Empire and Bretonnia, determined to take back the lands that formerly belonged to the Elves.

He saw himself fighting for the singular honour of becoming the Chosen One, who would lead the world to eternal carnage. Only one opponent remained, and it was also an old friend. Horribly mutated, Morgoth attacked him with sharp talons and daemon blade. He pressed to the attack with his own mighty daemonic weapon, and slew his friend. In despair, he almost took his own life to make the horrifying visions stop. He saw himself cruelly raping and murdering entire settlements with his army. He saw Radagast raise the sons against their fathers, and fathers against their sons. Morgoth was by his side, an vile daemon-zombie terrifying to behold and filled with unholy power. Corothas cut a swathe through the loyal empire followers and visited Toreths hometown. Looking upon the slaves taken, he noticed Toreths parents and sister.

'Give the young woman to me for my pleasure, and kill all the others.' The visions of betrayal and genocide continued, and Toreth was sure someone of their group had already betrayed the others. Suddenly the visions were over, and the door appeared.

He walked through it, thinking about who was the traitor.

Contrary to the other three, Corothas found the chamber he entered most pleasant, food and drink everywhere, nice beds, a warm fire, and a pair of dashingly beautiful young ladies. While he was being given a massage by the two, he began to think what a nice place to live it was here. The food and drink was everything he'd ever need, the girls were willing to do whatever he pleased, and he could take a bath and relax every time he wanted. Some time later, while enjoying the bath, he noticed something amiss. He didn't remember when he had come here, and where he was trying to go, but shrugged it off and called the girls.

Later again, he didn't even remember his own name, only the pleasures of the room mattered to him. Then he called the girls again. While he was about to make love with them again, he looked into the eyes of one of them, and saw his own face reflected in their jet-black darkness. An Elven face, one of the most handsome in the entire Old World, his mother had told him. His mother. The thought rang out clearly in the room swathed in mist and heady perfume. She had wanted him to become a minstrel, but he had insisted on becoming one of the mightiest Elven warriors ever. Some of the mist cleared, and he started to see the room a little more clearly. The bath wasn't a hot bath, but a cauldron of boiling blood.

The food on the table were various body parts, all perfectly prepared, yet also recognizable as human. He shivered despite the warmth of the bed and the girls.

Cold. He remembered the trip he and his companions took towards a rather deep dungeon, through snow and ice. The barbarian had commented on how the snow and ice in his homeland were much colder and better. His companions and he had laughed. Suddenly it all cleared up. He was Corothas, a noble Elf Knight, and he had let himself fall into the trap of Slaanesh, the prince of pleasure. The girls had horns and clawed feet, he suddenly noticed. 'Daemonettes' he thought. Evading a swipe of their deadly claws, he ducked into the corner and grabbed his Sunfang.

The blazing blade cut the daemonic flesh, which, alabaster a second ago, turned coal black. Both Daemonettes burned to ashes within seconds, their own lust and evil merely fuelling their own demise as the holy fire ate at them from their very core.

Swiftly pulling on his armour he sprinted towards the exit. If he really had been here for hours, the consequences for their quest would be disastrous.

They all burst through into the inner temple at exactly the right time, one casually walking through, the wizard appearing haggard, screaming in fury. Toreth appeared, eyeing the others with a suspicious glare. The last door was knocked of its hinges as the Elf sprinted through, skidding around when he found out he hadn't been late at all.

They were too late though, as the group of Chaos worshippers had already entered the idol chamber. They awaited their arrival, and each member of the four-man group eyed their opponents.

'Face us in single combat, you scum!' shouted one of the warriors.

Each of the four Chaos worshippers made a mocking bow and introduced themselves.

'I am Kalina L'Sherr,' a young girl spoke, silk rippling attractively around her body. 'I am the second in command.'

'Kurt Wulfen' growled a massive armour clad giant of a man, wielding a large axe.

'Delighted to finally make your acquaintance, my dear pursuers, Jacques Sorel, at your service' an amazingly gentle looking lad introduced himself.

'Greetings, fellow adventurers, my name is Numas, and I look forward to the show that you will provide us with.' A tall man in long robes said to them.

'Now then, what shall we do with them fellows?' Numas asked the warriors around him. 'Kurt?' 'One on one, all at the same time', the armoured knight barked.

'I too prefer a duel, Numas.' Jacques spoke.

'Can't we just leave them be and pretend we never saw them? I think they're all too cool to die.' 'No no no Kali, they challenged us by chasing us all through this forsaken citadel.' The little girl nodded, saying: 'Ok Numas, you're the boss and all that…'

'Well then, it's decided fellows. Choose your opponent and kill him as quickly as possible. Anyone who takes more than five minutes will be sacrificed the next chance we get.'

Toreth spoke: 'Ok, I think it should be leader against leader, so I'll take the tall guy with the…' He didn't get to finish his sentence as the little girl suddenly appeared before him, pouting. 'Please please please pick me? I'll be really sweet with you, 'cause I think you're really awesome.' Always easy on women and children, the tough "barbarian" sheepishly smiled and nodded. The girl immediately grabbed his arm and led him to an antechamber opposite to the 'hell' rooms.

The remaining six warriors glared at each other, before one of them broke the silence.

'You, the pretty boy, come here, let me stamp your baby face in.' Morgoth had spoken tot the Bretonnian lad.

'Ok Radagast, I think I'll take the big guy, so you just take care of their leader.'

Before the wizard could utter a protest, the Elf Knight had already darted across the room to engage the ogre sized warrior in a staring contest.

The Chaos warrior and the Bretonnian youth moved to the lower floors to find a place suitable for battle.

Meanwhile the Elf was having problems winning the staring game, since his opponents helmet had no eyeholes whatsoever, and resorted to a curt wave with his hand, and Kurt followed him into the room directly above the idol chamber.

'You huh?', the Chaos leader said. 'Too bad, I wanted to fight one of the strong ones.'

With those words, they both called mystic might to aid them, and began their mage's duel.

Elsewhere, tensions between the other warriors were heating up, and battle commenced.

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Once again, reviews are very much appreciated


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